


Love Songs

by kopycat_101



Series: Nathmarc November [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Boys In Love, Cute, Cute Kids, Dorks, Dorks in Love, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Marc Anciel, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marc can speak and sing in Spanish, Music, Mutual Pining, Nathaniel instantly finds himself simping for that, Pining, Singing, Slash, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, the inherent eroticism of serenading your crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: Marc plays some Latin Pop when he invites Nathaniel over to his house to work on their comic. He gets so into his favorite song, he starts to sing.Nathaniel quickly finds that he really likes it when Marc sings. Especially in Spanish. Or just says anything in Spanish, really.Marc uses this to his advantage.
Relationships: Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Series: Nathmarc November [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994782
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45





	Love Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andromeda612](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda612/gifts), [Kapane_luyeshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapane_luyeshu/gifts).



> For Nathmarc Month Day 4: Music
> 
> This fic is a gift to Andromeda and Kapane, my fellow Latinas that also love the thought of Marc speaking/singing in Spanish.
> 
> This is just another very self-indulgent fic, but is it wrong that I just want Marc to serenade his crush in Spanish and have Nathaniel swoon?

* * *

Marc has a rather… _eclectic_ taste in music.

Most of it was because of his Moms having such distinctly different favorite genres. Marc gets most of his harder stuff—rock, punk rock, emo, punk pop, alternative—from Mom. From Mamá Carmen, he gets all the Latin influence—meringue, Tejano, banda, corridos, cumbias, Latin pop.

And then on top of that, Marc likes listening to ‘regular’ pop music too, on occasion. So…he’s got a lot of different musical interests he can pull from. He’s got Mom’s old CD collection she’s gifted him, and Mamá is always humming and playing her music when she cooks or works around the house.

The way Marc dresses, he pulls more from his punk pop influences. He dresses the way his Mom dresses, black and boots and belts, because his Mom is a total badass! It looked cool, he looked cool, and it helped him feel cool and strong, just like his Mom.

When he sees someone wearing a band t-shirt he recognizes, he always perks up. It’s part of how he figured he’d get along well with Nathaniel so quickly, noticing the redhead’s Magma Moon t-shirt instantly.

“D-do you, um, l-listen to other bands like Magma Moon?” he’d stuttered out to his comic partner in the first week of their acquaintance, nervous and awkward in making idle conversation with his crush.

The boy had beamed back at him, bright and excited. And that opened the floodgates.

Nathaniel liked a lot of similar bands to him. The only pure rock band Nathaniel liked was Magma Moon, as he leaned more towards emo and pop punk. But each name was one that Marc recognized, if not loved; Paramore and FOB and Panic and MCR, and dozens more.

It was one more thing they clicked on, past comic books and superheroes, past magical girl and shounen anime, past being so driven by their minds to create something with their hands and hearts.

Marc has never connected so quickly with someone else before, and he’s grateful for it. Even if Nathaniel is his crush, he was also his friend. A friend who shared his interests.

Marc was lucky.

* * *

The two comic-makers found out quickly that they couldn’t work in pure silence. It was too…awkward and oppressive. Even if they didn’t need to talk, they still had to have some sort of background noise to feel comfortable.

Once they’d both figured that, they decided quickly on a system. The two would switch between who would ‘get music privileges’, finding something to play quietly while they worked on their comics.

For the most part, Marc stuck to things he knew that either Nathaniel liked, or were similar enough to his tastes that he’d enjoy regardless.

Today, though, Marc has invited Nathaniel to his home to work.

The air in the house is thick with the smell of his Mamá cooking something savory and delicious. The familiar sounds of trumpets, synths, drums, and maracas drifting across the first floor of the house. Sounds like Mamá was listening to Selena in the kitchen.

“Mamá…! I brought Nathaniel with me!” he hollers once he closes the front door, Nathaniel whipping his head to stare at him. Marc turns to him with a sheepish grin. “Don’t worry, we can work soon, just let me check in first. Make yourself at home.”

After popping in to remind Mamá to make sure a portion of food was Kosher for Nathaniel—the redhead awkwardly standing at the entrance of the kitchen all the while, looking very out of place—Mamá smiled at them and gave them some snacks to enjoy until dinner.

Soon enough, the teens were sitting in his room, materials spread over the desk. They had a plate of _pan dulce_ to share, and Marc felt comfortable enough to play something a little different than what he normally plays. He decides on some Latin Pop, and puts on Prince Royce.

Nathaniel—who’s attention had been wandering until that moment, peering around at Marc’s room with obvious interest—turns his gaze back over to Marc. And then he drops it to Marc’s phone, head tilted cutely to the side.

“Oh…! What’s that?” the redhead asks, leaning forwards. “Is that…Spanish? That’s Spanish, right?”

“Yup. It’s Prince Royce,” Marc grins back, fingers tapping against his desk in-sync to the rhythm. “Latin Pop singer.”

“I feel so uncultured, not knowing who that is,” the other admits with a shake of his head and a sheepish little laugh. It was charming. His laugh, his confession, the way he bobbed his head to the beat of a song he didn’t understand a word of. “It’s got a nice—a nice rhythm. And it sounds pretty.”

“He sings a lot of love songs, I think. But songs you can still dance to,” the writer nods. “If you want something more upbeat, I can play something else…?”

“No, I…I like this. It’s kind of soothing? But it still keeps me awake and makes me want to move. D-does that make sense?” Nathaniel asks with a nervous chuckle, scratching at his cheek, which has flushed a light pink.

Marc can’t help the giggles that slip past his lips, his heart feeling warm and full, fondness settling in his ribs. “It’s fine! I get it. When I want to write something calm, or just want something light to listen to when doing it, I usually pick his music.”

The redhead smiles back at him, shifting in his seat, a slight tension in his shoulders dissipating. “I’ll look up his music for later. There’s only so many slow and sad emo songs I can take, y’know? I need something slow and lowkey, but a little more upbeat.”

“What about lo-fi?”

“Lo-fi is fine for studying, but it’s literally white noise. I need a little more meat to my music,” Nathaniel snorts, turning to flip through his sketchbook and tap his pencil on the desk in a rhythm mimicking the song playing. “Here, how does this Akuma design look…?”

* * *

The two spend time like that, spit-balling ideas and munching on the _pan dulce_ , the low-volume Latin Pop filling the air of Marc’s room.

At some point, the teens can’t find anything else to critique, turning back to their own work. Nathaniel starts to sketch new designs for the Akuma, and Marc turns to a fresh page in his notebook to jot down a tweaked timeline and plot for the issue.

The playlist keeps running on shuffle. Time passes, Marc finding himself absorbed in what he’s doing. Whenever he chances a glance at Nathaniel, the redhead is bobbing his head, pencil flying across the page with a vivacious energy. Marc smiles to himself.

When one of his favorite songs comes on, Marc automatically finds himself mumbling and humming along to _Corazon Sin Cara_. He bobs his head, pausing in writing to re-read what he already has.

Suddenly, his story notes feel a little more magical, just slightly more romantic. Especially the dialogue written between Revisionist and Mightillustrator when the multi-colored hero goes to the monochrome hero on his woes of Chat Noir taking all of Ladybug’s attention. It’s a fitting song for the scene, too. A song about the heart not caring about one’s looks, as Revisionist comforts his friend, someone who he loves dearly.

Then _Darte Un Beso_ plays right afterwards—another favorite—and Marc really can’t help but quietly sing along. His body moves, shoulders shimmying and shaking a bit, his pen tapping on his notebook to the beat.

He gets more into the song and finds himself putting a little more passion into it, especially when the chorus hits.

_“Yo sólo quiero darte un beso_ _…Y regalarte mis mañanas…Cantar para calmar tus miedos…Quiero que no te falte nada…”_

When he finishes the first chorus and goes into the next verse, movement from the corner of his eye grabs his attention. He looks over, freezing in place as he remembers he isn’t alone. Nathaniel is here, sitting next to him.

The redhead’s staring back at Marc, uncovered blue eye wide and gleaming, mouth parted slightly. He looks like he’s in a trance.

Marc feels his face go warm. “S-Sorry! W-w-was I distract—distracting you?”

Nathaniel just blinks back at him, cheeks faintly flushed. “Oh. Um. No, it’s—it’s fine. It’s just…You’re a pretty good singer, s’all. Or at least, it—it s-sounds nice when you sing in Spanish…”

“O-oh.” Marc lets that sink in, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and pride fill him. It’s quiet between them, just the dulcet tones of the singer filling the air, winding down on the song.

“What’s—what’s this song?” Nathaniel finally asks after a long second, moving his bangs behind his ear. His sea-blue eyes flicker over at the blackened screen of Marc’s phone, before they’re back on Marc’s own eyes.

“Oh! I-It's, um, it's _Darte Un Beso_ ,” the words roll off his tongue automatically, fluidly. It might be the lighting, but Marc _swears_ he sees Nathaniel’s cheeks darken as the artist busies himself with grabbing his sketchbook and pencil.

Marc reaches over to his phone, fumbling for it, pausing the song just before it ends. He turns the screen to show the other the title.

Nathaniel scribbles on a corner of a page of his sketchbook, in that chicken scratch of his—the song title, the writer is able to make out, alongside the singer’s name. Marc feels warm at that; Nathaniel writing this down because he wants to remember it.

“You, uh, you seemed to really like that song…” the artist comments, fiddling with his pencil.

“It’s one of my favorites from the artist,” Marc admits with an awkward grin. “Th-the one before it, too. They’re some of his most famous, but…there’s a good reason for that. They’re really good.”

“I liked them,” Nathaniel nods, tapping his pencil rapidly on his sketchbook in an almost _nervous_ gesture, before saying, “Spanish is a beautiful language. I wish I knew it. You speak it so well, and you can sing and—”

The other boy’s cheeks flush a dark pink, and he rubs at the back of his neck, ducking his head. “S-sorry. Sorry. I don’t want to make you, um, uncomfortable or anything…”

“I-It’s fine,” Marc breathes, feeling his heart skip past just a normal flutter and dive straight into doing a gymnastics routine in his chest.

The writer goes to turn his phone back on, swiping and repeating the song. He doesn’t go back to singing the song, but…He feels Nathaniel’s eyes on him, as he murmurs the lyrics under his breath and taps his pen on his notebook, his fingers, his lips.

The lyrics to the song are…all too fitting for Marc’s feelings towards his comic partner.

_I only want to give you a kiss, fill up your soul with my love_ …

Instead of feeling flustered or pressured, however—at his crush being in his room, watching him hum along to a song he loves—Marc feels strangely calm. The familiarity of the music is soothing, even if the situation he’s in isn’t.

When Marc looks over as the song ends, Nathaniel’s eyes are riveted by his sketchbook, pencil poised on the page. But his pencil is stock-still.

Marc gives a private little smile, and goes back to his notebook.

* * *

Nathaniel has a problem. A very specific problem, but a problem, nonetheless.

He’s pretty sure it’s not something that’s easy to Google, and like hell is he going to go to Alix about it, because she’ll _never_ let him live it down.

His comic partner is cute. It’s a fact, because Nathaniel has _eyes_ , and Marc is cute. He looks cute, he acts cute, he is an absolute sweetheart, and just. Marc’s cute.

Nathaniel knows this. He has eyes, and he hangs out with Marc, and they’re friends. Marc is cute.

But when Marc speaks Spanish, the writer suddenly goes from _cute_ to _ridiculously attractive_.

It was a little pathetic, how much it affects Nathaniel. Just a simple word or phrase, said casually, and he feels like swooning. And when Marc sings in Spanish? A complete knock-out. It feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

Marc sometimes sings along to songs, if Nathaniel manages to coax him into it, loud and goofy as they recite Welcome to the Black Parade or Sugar We’re Goin’ Down. Marc can actually hold a tune, so he sounds pretty good compared to Nathaniel.

He’s never heard Marc sing in such a…an intimate and quiet way, before that, though.

Marc is a naturally shy person, so he’ll sing quietly unless he’s belting emo shit with Nathaniel. But the way Marc sings Spanish songs is _different_. The words dripping from his mouth like honey, torso shimmying to the beat, an obvious care and familiarity to it.

It sounds sweet and soulful. It also sounds hot. There. Nathaniel admits it.

He can’t get it out of his head. The way Marc looked as he sang, like no one else existed, just him and the music. The way he moved, how he tapped at his notebook and lips.

Oh God, just…Nathaniel feels like a simp. Is that what he’s doing? Simping over Marc? His ridiculously talented and nice and pretty friend who also just-so-happened to speak another romance language and sound hot while doing it?

…Yeah, okay. It sounds like it.

But! But it really isn’t Nathaniel’s fault. Spanish is one of the world’s romance languages, so of _course_ it sounds nice and attractive when a native speaker speaks it. And Nathaniel was a huge romantic. Those factors together just spelled his doom.

He couldn’t get it out of his head, either. Marc talking in Spanish. Marc _singing_ in Spanish. All the frazzled artist could really do is recognize, yup, this might just be a crush. Nope, it probably wasn’t going away any time soon. Because when Nathaniel crushed, he crushed _hard_.

At the very least, all these fluttery feelings were good inspiration for the romantic and intimate bits of the comic issue. Revisionist and Mightillustrator were going to have a talk about Might feeling inadequate from Ladybug paying more attention to Chat Noir. The scene was one where Rev comforted Might, strengthening their bond…

And with the thoughts floating around Nathaniel’s head, well. It just felt like it had a romantic undertone. Sue him.

Nathaniel sighs—a bit wistful, a lot dreamy—and searches for a playlist of Prince Royce’s music. More specifically, he tries to find the one song he knows the title of.

* * *

Nathaniel bobs his head as he draws, pencil flying across the page, when Marc enters Room 33 for Art Club.

Marc takes his usual seat next to his comic partner, putting his bag on the table and getting out his things. The redhead smiles over at him, taking one of his earphones out. “Hey, Marc.”

Marc blinks back, recognizing the song sputtering out from the earphones, tiny but distinct. “Oh! Listening to Prince Royce, like I’d recommended?” the writer asks.

The artist’s cheeks flush instantly into a cute pink, and he gives an awkward laugh. “Y-Yeah. I, uh…I l-liked it from last time…”

He looks so sheepish about it, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s adorable.

“If you want to hear more, you can ask,” Marc tells him kindly. “I’ve got more of his music. And more Latin artists too, if you want recommendations.”

Nathaniel taps his pencil on his sketchbook, eyes darting away, before shyly looking at Marc through his lashes. “Uh…really?”

“Of course,” the writer says automatically.

The artist bites his lip. Marc’s eyes are instantly riveted to the motion. “Maybe…Maybe next time, you can, um. You can show me your favorite Spanish songs…?”

Marc finds himself melting into a gooey puddle. “I’d be happy to.”

* * *

If all the songs Marc plays for Nathaniel the next time are all love songs that just-so-happen to also be some of his favorites, well. It’s not like the redhead will know.

* * *

The two visit Marc’s house more often to work on their comic, and Marc plays more Latin music.

The way the artist stares back at him when Marc slips into singing while they’re working makes his stomach clench and his heart stutter. He feels a little proud by the attention, by how the other’s pale cheeks turn a delicate pink when listening to him.

But if Nathaniel has a problem with how strangely romantic and intimate the situation is feeling, he doesn’t say a word.

* * *

Nathaniel looks up the lyrics to the songs Marc has show him, the ones he’s sung along to and captured Nathaniel’s heart with.

The lyrics are all in Spanish, of course. There’s translations online, but usually for English. Nathaniel does his best to translate from English to French, because at least he has a decent grasp of English from school. Even if the translation is a second-hand—technically third-hand?—one, at least it’ll help Nathaniel _understand_.

Marc admitted that first time that the songs were mostly love songs. Considering _Darte Un Beso_ translates to Give You A Kiss, that…makes sense.

It still feels significant to him, though. That Marc would sing those songs, and play them for Nathaniel to hear, when they’re alone together and supposed to be working on their comic.

Marc’s never played Latin pop when they’re in the Art Room, or at school while working on their things. Or at the park. Or even when they’re at Nathaniel’s place. It could just be that Marc’s nervous about it. That he doesn’t want to play something that Nathaniel wouldn’t like. But the redhead has always encouraged him to play whatever he wants, because Marc has good taste when it comes to music. Every time Marc starts up a playlist, Nathaniel finds a new song or artist to look up.

So the next time Nathaniel invites Marc over to work on their comic, it’s his turn to choose the music. He puts on a playlist, beginning by playing the song that started it all.

Marc’s head snaps up to stare at him, those emerald eyes wide. His tanned cheeks darken in a faint blush, pink lips pulling into a small and private smile.

Nathaniel smiles back, pencil tapping a nervous rhythm against his sketchbook. When the chorus kicks in, he stumbles through the words to the best of his abilities, no doubt butchering them. _“Yo sólo quiero darte un beso_ _…Y regalarte mis mañanas…Cantar para calmar tus miedos…Quiero que no te falte nada…”_

Marc’s eyes _gleam_ , and giggles start to fall past his pink lips. Nathaniel feels his face go warm and his stomach erupt in butterflies.

“If you’d like…I, um. I could help teach you the words, s-since you enjoy the song so much,” the writer tells him quietly, fiddling with his choker, and Nathaniel would have to be deaf to not hear the underlying double-meaning in his words.

Face warm and pulse thrumming in his veins, the artist smiles back. “I-I’d like that.”

The writer’s plump lips move as he sings along to the chorus, words smooth and voice perfect.

* * *

Marc’s lips aren’t just smooth when they sing in Spanish, Nathaniel finds.

Marc finds that just singing about kissing someone isn’t nearly as magical as actually going through with it.

Their hearts beat in tandem, harmonious, like the sweetest song.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> Pan dulce= sweet bread, a variety of Hispanic pastries  
> Prince Royce is a popular Dominican/Latino Pop star  
> One of Marc’s Moms is Latina because I need me that rep.  
> I headcanon that Marc is multilingual in French, English, and Spanish
> 
> Translation of the Spanish lyrics:  
> I only want to give you a kiss  
> To gift you my tomorrows  
> To sing to calm your fears  
> I don't want you to miss anything
> 
> Magma Moon is reference to the French band Magma, which is what Nath's t-shirt logo is based on in canon.


End file.
